


The Beginning

by brionylarkin



Series: Drove (Them) Underground [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, I made Klaus' childhood worse, Immortal Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Can't Die, Murder, Near Death Experiences, at least he has Pogo, if that was even possible, young klaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brionylarkin/pseuds/brionylarkin
Summary: Klaus didn't always fear his powers or the ghosts. This isn't how it happened, but it is... something.





	The Beginning

It started innocently enough, with animals. Suddenly, little Number Four was grabbing at translucent squirrels and floating rabbits with his chubby fists. And sure, some of the animals had bloody wounds or chunks missing, but Number Four didn’t yet know to fear these things. None of the adults around him could even see said animals to teach him.

Reginald didn’t start to monitor the children in their sleep until they were nearly five, so he missed Number Four’s’ first night terror, in which a decaying woman with claw marks down her cheeks featured heavily. He also missed the first time Number Four jolted out of a nightmare, only to come face to face with some ghostly figure only he could see. When he began recording, Reginald would get plenty more footage.

All of these were only symptoms, though. Originally, Reginald was puzzled; what was the extent of Number Four’s powers? What did the boy really see?

The answer would come on the children’s third birthday--not that any of them knew it was their birthday (Reginald didn’t hold with such distractions, and the children were only vaguely aware of the others’ existence, anway).

Several weeks beforehand, Number Four’s favored nanny had been struck by a car and killed on impact. Four was unaware of this. In fact, he had not seemed to notice the woman was gone. This was strange, Reginald noted, as the boy seemed remarkably aware of everything else happening around him. It wasn’t until his weekly trip down to Four’s nursery that he figured out what had happened. 

There Number Four sat, on the floor surrounded by toys recommended for his exact age, and he was babbling. To himself, presumably. But, Reginald thought, then what was the child looking at?

For he did seem to be staring intently in one direction, nodding occasionally as if along with someone. 

“What are you staring at, Number Four?” Reginald barked, careful to lower his voice the recommended amount for talking to small children. Four turned and beamed at his father.

“Daddy!” he screeched, raising his arms to be lifted into the air. His new nanny immediately complied. Reginald ignored the small hands reaching in his direction and repeated the question.

“I’m talkin’ to Miss Rosa!” Four announced with pride before sticking his whole left hand in his mouth. Reginald furrowed his brow in confusion. Rosa was the name of the deceased nanny. Could it be possible that Four was truly talking to her?

“And what does this Miss Rosa look like?” he asked, trying to remember the old nanny’s face. He had a picture somewhere…

“She ‘as brown hair and a green shirt!” Four said after a moment of thinking. He stuck his hand in his mouth again, but then pulled it out to continue. “But par’ of the shirt is red. I think she spilled somethin’. Uh-oh!” 

Reginald’s mind was moving a million miles an hour. If Number Four could really communicate with the dead, he was the most useful child to come of this little experiment so far--not that that feat was particularly difficult, as half the children had yet to show  _ any  _ special abilities. 

“Can you ask Rosa what her middle name is, child?” Reginald asked, still considering the possibilities. Four frowned up at him for a moment. 

Turning to the side, he asked the empty air, “Miss Rosa, what’s your middle name?” He paused, apparently listening to the response and faced his father again. “She said Leah.”

That was, indeed, the nanny’s middle name. 

“Can we play now, Daddy?” Four pouted up at his father as he squirmed to be put down. The nanny deposited him on the floor a little too quickly, looking slightly freaked out. Maybe it was time for a new nanny, Reginald wondered. He made a mental note to pick one with a stronger tolerance for weirdness this time.

He was too late. By the time Reginald had, nearly six months later, narrowed the list down to four possible candidates (his new employee to be chosen after a vigorous interview process), Four’s nanny had drowned the child in the bathtub. When she was discovered and pulled off of the now limp boy, she simply crossed herself and began to pray.

Reginald was furious. He had Pogo lock the woman in the basement for the rest of the night while he decided what to do. He started by moving the dead child to his laboratory, with vague thoughts of dissecting it to find out what was so special about these children. 

But before he could do anything, Number Four was screaming himself awake, sobbing and mumbling unintelligibly. To say Reginald was shocked would be an understatement. But was this a new power or simply a stroke of luck. 

There was only one way to find out. 

“There, there,” he muttered to Number Four, who was still crying. He awkwardly patted the boy on the back, glad when it seemed to calm him. He unsheathed a small needle full of a clear liquid. “There, there.” 

Reginald held a hand over the sniffling child’s face and jabbed the needle into his neck. Four didn’t even have time to scream before he was sliding down onto the table, unconscious. Hurriedly attaching a heart rate monitor and electrodes to Four’s finger and head, Reginald sat down and waited for the child to die.

It wasn’t quick. While Four did remain unconscious through it all, his limbs jerked and his face screwed up in apparent pain. He was silent. Finally, his heart rate flatlined and his brain waves began to slow down. Reginald leaned in to watch it happen.

As the waves gradually slowed to a stop, a strange phenomenon occurred. The signals began to spike sharply downwards, irregularly, and soon the screen was nothing but sharp lines. 

After five minutes, Four screamed himself awake again, sobbing for his father. Reginald absently ran a hand down the boy’s back as he made a note in his journal, ink flowing smoothly out of his pen and onto the paper. When he finished, he looked up and Pogo was standing in the doorway. It was hard to tell if he appeared more confused or horrified. 

“Ah, how long have you been standing there, Dr. Pogo?” asked Reginald, jotting something else down. “Have you seen the new development? It could be an incredibly useful talent-”

“Sir,” Pogo interrupted, striding over to pick Number Four up. “With all due respect, if you ever do that again, nothing will stop me from calling the police. I don’t care what effects it will have on me, as long as the child is safe.” He rubbed a soothing hand down Four’s back, slowly calming the hiccuping toddler. 

“What?” Reginald said, flabbergasted. “But think of the practical use of such an ability. Coming back to life! Imagine if it could be used on other people, oh, if he only learns to control it-”

“No,” Pogo said and the argument was over. It wasn’t often that the old ape really put his foot down and Reginald often didn’t listen even when he did. But, there was something about Pogo’s face that told Reginald with absolute certainty that his creation would turn on him, would make good on his threat to call the police. 

“Well… alright then,” he acquiesced. “I suppose the risks are far higher than the potential reward.” Pogo nodded with firm resolution and turned to go. 

“I will place Number Four in Number Two’s quarters for tonight. Tomorrow, I will see about finding him a new caretaker,” he said. He didn’t look quite satisfied. 

“Yes, I have been thinking about that,” said Reginald, beginning to clear away his scientific equipment. “Number Seven is also having problems with nannies. Perhaps it is time the children begin to be watched by the same person.” Pogo nodded and left the room, Four dozing in his arms. 

Reginald rubbed his chin as he watched his old friend go. Perhaps, he needed to add a few things to his Pogo file...


End file.
